Town of Hummelville
by QueenOfCitrus
Summary: After the baby fiasco Puck still hasn't found a way to make it up to Finn.When Fate decides to interfere,giving him the chance to prove he's worth of Finn's trust,he doesn't hesitate.Even if it means dealing with a sick Kurt,bullies and much gayness.Purt Hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Okay, this is just the first chapter so I didn't make it very long... Plus, it's my first Glee fic so I'm feeling a bit insecure. Reviews would be highly appreciated. Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors, it's un-betated. _**

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Jesus, what did you think?

* * *

><p>Town of Hummelville<p>

Chapter 1

Puck had a problem.

It wasn't one of those usual problems – like having a bird do its job on your mohawk or sporting a boner during biology classes – this problem was actually quite a serious one. For the first time in his entire life Noah Puckerman felt that he needed to make it up to somebody. In this case – Finn.

Now, it was one thing to say sorry when you've stepped on a person's toe, or when you've stolen somebody's antidepressants to get high, and it was a completely different story to impregnate their girlfriend. As reluctant as he was, Noah had to learn that silly fact, accept the consequences and most of all find a way to deal with them. He was an honorable badass and as such he had trouble feeling guilty when it came to sex, but Finn was still his best friend. And absolutely _everybody_ needed a best friend, even a stud like Puck.

Noah tried everything that crossed his mind, going through a whole string of different tactics – from a casual, almost matter-of-fact sorry to a full-blown desperate apologizing, only to end up in the same situation every time: frustrated and in need to throw some loser in the dumpster. It was driving him crazy to think so much about the same, non-sexually related problem - his body simply wasn't designed to endure such pressure. So why wasn't Finn appreciating the efforts? It didn't matter how many times Noah went to his best friend and insisted on forgetting about the whole story, or how many times he offered his porn collection as means of redemption, Hudson wouldn't have it. None of it.

And that was when, most unexpectedly, Fate smiled upon him.

When Mr. Shue decided to take them to a 5-day trip out of Lima for the sake of some much needed recovering of the team spirit (and well, some rehearsing), Puck couldn't help it but smirk to himself, thinking that this was the exact solution he had been looking for. Finn would have no way to avoid him and if Noah was lucky they could even share the same room in the hotel.

* * *

><p>"I can't go."<p>

The room fell silent at that statement, all present Glee clubbers staring in shock as Finn rubbed his fingers together uneasily.

"What?" Rachel chocked out in shock. "But you're my loyal lieutenant! I have prepared a list of 77 songs for the 5-day trip, all of which underlying our chemistry perfectly and aiming to deal with your weak points to help you match my great talent of a star."

The wide-eyed, I-have-no-idea-what-just-came-out-of-your-mouth expression with which Finn met the declaration made Mercedes roll her eyes as she got up from her chair and stepped forward, her hands landing on her hips in what appeared to be a slightly menacing pose.

"You better introduce one hell of a good explanation for ditching us, white boy, or else…"

"I bet he just doesn't want Rachel bossing him around for five solid days, non-stop. Even I had my doubts." Artie mumbled, covering his mouth with his hand in an only half-successful attempt to not be detected by the Jew girl. The student in question snapped her goggle-eyed, filled with incinerating indignation gaze towards the boy in the wheel-chair, her hands crossing in front of her chest.

"I _beg_ your pardon!"

"I didn't say anything."

"Guys, GUYS! This has nothing to do with Rachel!" Finn's voice cut them off and they all turned their attention back to the quarterback with a tad bit of reluctance (Oh, c'mon, _everybody_ loved to see a fuming Miss Bossy Pants) "It's just bad timing…" he paused, taking in the others' puzzled faces and reached to rub his brows wearily "Kurt's sick."

From his place at the back of the choir room Puck barely resisted the urge to groan out loud. How could've he not notice? The princess had seemed quite off the previous day – he hadn't even snapped back one of those terribly confusing, elaborated and very, very frustrating I'm-better-than-you comebacks at Noah's comment about the gayness of his purple skinny jeans – so no wonder he wasn't at school today. But so what? It wasn't like Finn could scare the germs away with his height if he stayed behind which meant there was hardly any point in missing the trip. Hudson should've been happy – at least there wouldn't be a chance that the queer queen would try something on him during the five days out of Lima…

"Why is that a reason for you to not come?" Rachel inquired restlessly at the same time Mercedes announced she was calling to check on 'her boy' and left the choir room. Finn let out a sigh of exasperation, making his way to the nearest chair and plopping down, successfully blocking Tina's whole vision range with his broad back.

"Mom and Burt are out of town on a 'romantic weekend' which, I think, lasts more than a weekend… but anyway, he and I both agreed that we shouldn't call them. They seriously need a break from all of this."

"So do _you_. Hummel's not a baby, he can take care of himself. I mean, look at his hair…" Puck's voice died away as Finn shot him a glare over his shoulder and the self-proclaimed stud let out a small huff, leaning back in his seat. _Whatever, Finnessa._ He pursed his lips, remembering to remain calm and not let his temper get the best of him. Mouth shut _tightly_ till they were all in the bus. Right. Stick to the plan.

"I think he's really, really sick." The quarterback admitted, turning his attention back to the others. "He claims he's fine but I know for sure something's off." He lowered his voice, adding in what appeared to be slightly intimidated, disconcerted whisper. "He didn't comb his hair this morning."

All the girls in the room (including Artie for some reason) drew a sharp breath in.

"Oh, my Gosh, is Kurt going to die?" Brittany exclaimed, looking around herself in something like a half-hazed panic.

"He'll be okay, Brit, he just has some severe fever, sore throat and he's so dizzy, he keeps tripping into things when he tries walking for too long." Finn explained, slumping a little in his seat as his lips curved into an uneven line. "But I can't leave him on his own. He obviously needs somebody to take care of him."

For a split second Puck considered pointing out the possibility that Hummel was just _pretending_ to get to be alone with Finn for a few days, but then something else emerged in his mind and he paused, lips parting with the shock of the realization.

Suddenly, Fate wasn't smiling at him. It was _smirking_.

* * *

><p>Puck might not be very bright when it came to school, but he sure knew what to do to get what he wanted when it came to real life. He knew what to say, and when to say it – hell, how else would've he gotten all those cougars wrapped around his finger if he didn't? – and most of all there was very little that he wasn't willing to surrender for the sake of his quests. So when the idea of suggesting to give up his own trip ticket to look after Hummel first occurred to him, he decided to look at it as a challenge, rather than the torture that it really represented. For one, he was more than positive it would win him a whole bucket of brownie points in front of Finn (Kurt was like his baby brother now, right?) and two, once he let the words leave his mouth in front of Rachel, Noah just knew he would get the job. Being as sticky as a gummed label when it came to things like this, the little Jew girl was not going to let it go until she convinced the quarterback to accept the offer. Of course, it took a little bit more time than usual – Hudson's guilt was not quite as charming as most girls gave him credit for – and Puck had to endure Mercedes threatening to cut his balls off and shave his head if he didn't tend for 'her boy' carefully enough but it was all worth it in the end.<p>

He got a bunch of keys, a lot of instructions, twice as many warnings and after agreeing not to tell Hummel anything just yet, Noah went home to get a few things. The victorious smirk that had blossomed on his lips proved to be much harder to get rid of than he though – not only was he about to win his friend back, but it would be a lot easier than having deep, personal conversations with Finn about _who_ did _what_ wrong and_ why_. All he had to do was endure Kurt's girly voice and just as girly whining for a couple of days, not hit the poor sick homo and not throw his gay ass in dumpsters and that was that.

Yes, plain and simple. Puck felt his chest swell with pride at the idea. This. Would Be. _Easy_.

The bus, along with all the Glee members, left at about five in the afternoon but Puck wasn't there to say goodbye. Instead, he was fighting his way thought the Friday traffic congestion towards the house he remembered only for nailing all its lawn furniture to the roof. Ooh, the good old days (he couldn't help the dreamy sigh that escaped his lips at the memory)! Where did that time go, anyway? The time when there was law and order in school; when all the losers had to take a dive in the dumpster as a 'good morning' and when _no one_ dared to even look at Puck the wrong way out of fear they'd get slushied or punched in the face for it moments later.

Damn, he missed that so much at times. Glee club had ended up changing him in ways that he had never expected it to…

For example, he never thought he would be entering the Hummel-Hudson residence legally, willingly and with the permission of one of the owners. _Man, I used to throw eggs at these windows when Mr. Hummel was not in… _He shook his head, shooing the thought away as he closed the front door behind him and headed to the basement where he knew Kurt's room was.

Climbing down the stairs as quietly as possible (Hell, he had absolutely no desire to wake up the princess if he was sleeping. He didn't want to endure any more of those stupid smart-ass remarks than he had to.), he took his time observing the atmosphere from above. The room was _huge_ and much, much better illuminated than he had expected. It looked like it had been taken out from the cover of a furniture magazine with all those expensive shit arranged around it with impressive care and patience, just _so_ plain meticulously, it was downright sickening… And it was tidy. How could it be so tidy? How could a guy live in such squeaky clean- Oh, wait. Fancy was not exactly a guy, was he?

"Finn?" a soft groan sounded around the room, and a small movement to the right caught Puck's attention. There, right under a pile of what appeared to be silky covers, something stirred and a tiny dainty hand pushed the material away, revealing a pair of squinted, blinking red eyes.

"Wrong knight, Princess." Puck snickered, enjoying the way his voice made Hummel stiffen before redirecting his disbelieving and very, very glassy gaze towards the Jew.

"Oh, sweet Dolche…" the boy whined, struggling to sit up with the help of just one hand as the other one reached to rub against his brows. "The fever's gotten so high I'm becoming delusional."

Puck couldn't hold back another chuckle as he descended the staircase completely, sauntering his way to the sick singer. Finn hadn't been exaggerating about his step-brother's condition. Hummel did look and sound horrible. His voice was soft and slightly hoarse, his face even paler than usual (while his cheeks looked unhealthily flustered), lips dry and chapped and the usually perfect hair left in a stunning mess that Noah had never witnessed before. The almighty Mayor of Gaytown was a wreck.

"Trust me, Lance Bass, if you were delusional, this wouldn't be how you'd be imagining the Puckasauras." He smirked, lifting his palm with the intention to try and see if the smaller male's forehead was too warm, but Kurt just let out an incoherent growl and swatted the offending limb away.

"If you ever haunt my imagination, it would be in a scene where I shove your own filthy sock into your own filthy mouth. Now how did you get in?"

Puck just smirked, pulling back a little to fish the keys out of his pocket and dangle them over Hummel's head far enough so he wouldn't be able to snatch them (something that the Jew suspected the sick singer would have the inexplicable desire to do). Then he watched with a certain amount of wicked delight as the realization dawned upon Kurt's face, turning into a mortified, shocked and even slightly fearful grimace.

"No. Nonononono! You're not serious, Finn's not serious, he wouldn't do this to me!"

"I think he already has, dude." Puck shrugged with a grin but much to his surprise Hummel's misty eyes shot up to glare at him.

"Don't call me 'dude'!" the boy barked (he literally did, the rough, croaky tincture adding up to the feeling perfectly). "Don't even open your mouth! Just turn around and walk away. And leave me the keys!"

"Wow, for someone who's about to lose their voice, you sure yell a lot. A lot of stupid things."

Kurt's glare darkened even further at that comment and much to Puck's horror, the sick singer forced himself on his feet, his small hands managing to give only one feeble push to the Jew's broad chest before he slumped against it, breathing with difficulty.

"Just leave. Go, I can take care of myself."

Noah's arms reached out almost completely on their own, wrapping around the sinking form moments before Kurt's knees had give away. A small snarl followed the action but Puck hardly cared, much more concerned about the hot forehead that pressed against the exposed flesh revealed by his neckline and the trembling, ice-cold hands clutching his arms to care about anything else.

Hummel was much worse than he had anticipated.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Okay, this is chapter 2. Nothing much happens here, but I'm still introducing you to the story, so don't give up on me just yet, ok? Lemme know what you think. _**

**_P.S. There'll be a lemon in the later chapters, but can't tell you when exactly. :)  
><em>**

* * *

><p>Town of Hummelville<p>

Chapter 2

Kurt had a problem.

It wasn't one of those usual problems – like finding a matching scarf for your Prada shirt or hiding every food that wasn't organic away from your Dad's hungry eyes – this problem was actually quite a serious one. His father, stepbrother and stepmother were out of town, he had to miss one of the few events that he had been looking forward to (Rachel could destroy everything that was to be merry about a Glee trip, but at least he could count on spending more time with his friends rather than swimming in the dumpster or cleaning slushy goo off his designer clothes.) and to top it all, he couldn't walk ten meters in a straight line no matter how hard he tried... Well, now that he thought about it, he might not be able to walk ten meters in a zigzag pattern, either, given how things kept quivering in a funny haze before his eyes because of the fever. Oh, Kurt was really, really sick and he knew it. He didn't have a single muscle left that didn't ache at least a little, his body kept shaking despite the two blankets and he was so crabby he could beat up practically anyone who dared to irritate him with his fluffy slipper if it weren't for the fact that he was too exhausted to even sit up... It was all quite marvelous, yes, and it somehow kept getting better: the one person that his lovely family and unbelievably thoughtful friends had left behind to take care of him, was a 17-year-old MILF-ophile who knew 98 more words, other than "badass" and "guns" and who was currently unhealthily fascinated by the large flat-screen TV on the opposite wall to pay any attention to what the sick singer was trying to tell him. And what Hummel was trying to tell him was:

"Get the hell out of my house."

Did he mention he was really crabby? Frustrated? Full of petulance?

"You're not very nice." Puck pointed out absently as he scanned the line of DVDs, his index finger resting on his chin thoughtfully as if he was trying to make up his mind if any of them was worth his attention. A small groan came from Kurt's direction at that statement as the boy turned his head to the side to glare at the back of the jock's head.

"_I'm_ no very nice? You're an intruder and you refuse to leave! I can go call the police right now."

"You won't even make it to the phone, Princess. And besides, I just went and got you all the medicine you needed from the drugstore. The least you can do is try and not bite my head off."

Kurt resisted the urge for a facepalm only because he knew it would make the haze worse… and because Puckerman was kind of right. Even if his fried brain desperately tried to ignore it, the pile of bottles and pills on the top of the table, just a reach away, was a painful proof that, yes, the jock had, in fact, called the doctor, written down the list of the needed medicine and gone out to the pharmacy to get them, all in spite of Hummel's smartass remarks ('Oh, do please wander away instead of coming back' and 'Don't hope that I will give you your money back' were some of the most popular). In the end of the day, he didn't mean either but that wasn't the point. He didn't want Puck around. Not only were they not friends (well, how could it not be so when the danger of 'catching the gay' was exalted enough by their mutual membership in Glee?), but Kurt had very little reason to trust the footballer – and why would he be otherwise when the closest interaction the two of them had ever had was of the jock giving Hummel a lift to the dumpster express.

This whole situation was just so wrong. So, so, _so_ wrong! The mere presence of the Jew was making the smaller boy feel uneasy and even slightly anxious; he wanted to be left in peace. At least _then_ he wouldn't have to strain his already hoarse voice to speak and his nerves wouldn't have to endure the torture that was Noah Puckerman in his purest form…

Kurt snorted under his breath at the thought, dropping his arm over his eyes with a sigh. _Oh, for Gaga's sake, these pills better start working soon so I can send this Neanderthal back to his cave, or else I swear, I will lose my battle against insanity…_

"Yo, Hummel?"

Kurt didn't even bother looking at the jock, giving up a tired 'hmm?' instead.

"Is there anything in here that is like, homo-proof?"

Kurt let his eyes shut, his jaw clenching as he fought down the rage deluge that was rising from the tips of his toes up, up to his currently heating cheeks. This was unbelievable. _Unbelievable_. So the jock comes here, stays against _Kurt's_ will, buys _Kurt_ medicine, against _Kurt's _will and now offends his choice of movies… which, by the way, is _also_ against Kurt's will.

"There're a lot of high-quality musicals in my collection but considering all the cells in your body that perform any kind of 'clever' activity are congregated either in your mohawk or in certain other body parts that I shall not name, I'm afraid you won't be able to appraise any of those masterpieces."

The sick singer glanced at Noah, and, espying the slightly puzzled frown on the taller male's face, he mentally congratulated himself. _Mission accomplished._ Recovering from the brain glitch almost instantly, the jock shook his head and proceeded to head to the sofa that Kurt was currently occupying, only to plop down at the smaller male's feet, nearly squishing them.

"What are we going to do, then?"

"_We_ are doing nothing. _You_ are hitting the road and _I_ am staying here to enjoy my ceiling and the other views that this couch provides."

"Why are you being so hostile?"

Letting out a loud sigh, Kurt pushed himself in a sitting position and pulled his knees to his chest, noting to himself that the action didn't make him feel nearly as dizzy as he guessed it would. Apparently, the pills were starting to take effect.

"I don't know, Puck. Could it be because you've thrown me in the dumpster and executed all sorts of random terrors on me for the better part of my school years?" he suggested snarkily, cocking his head to the side as he folded his arms on top of his raised knees. Noah just rolled his eyes with a snort.

"That was _before_. What is important is right _now_." He stated wisely and Kurt arched both brows incredulously, his cracked lips twisting with slight irritation.

"Come on, Puckerman. Tell me why you're _really_ here."

Fixing his brown eyes on the sick boy's sallow face, Puck leaned back against the sofa and slid his arms across its back with a bored huff. Whatever was going through his head right now, he seemed pretty confident that his next words would be passable enough for 'the princess' to buy them and it made Kurt's fingers itch all the more for that fluffy slipper. Hummel was not stupid – far from it, actually – and he had spend enough time in Glee club to know _exactly_ which expression the jock used when a big, big lie was about to leave his mouth. And even if the smaller singer wasn't so aware of that little detail, you didn't need to be a genius to figure out what was going on (As a matter of fact, being informed about all the latest gossip was all that was required to spot the quite obvious 'Best Friend Quest' in which the jock had embarked. And Kurt just happened to have the perfect flock of blabbering friends, better known as The-Female-FBI, to have his currently fairly dizzy head filled with all sorts of useless data.) It was ok if those were Puck's motives to be doing this – really, it was. Because if it hadn't been this way, then Hummel would have a reason to not hate the muscular Jew, which _would,_ irrevocably, lead to the end of the world as we know it…

Drama and tragedy aside though, Kurt wanted to see if Puck would have at least the decency of being honest about his intentions._ Just so_, even if it was probably going to infuriate him beyond belief later on.

"It was the right thing to do, you know, cuz I'm not just one hell of a sex shark, but I'm also, like, a really responsible and compassionate citizen." Noah paused, scowling for a moment in his quite amusing attempt to concentrate, and then added. "All the usual stuff, really. Homeless people. Hungry kittens. Street littering. Ill gay kids..."

Kurt choked.

"Puck, I might be sick and un-combed, but that doesn't make me a retard. I _know_ this is not why you're here." He stated, willingly reigning the un-amused bitch that was currently throwing a tantrum inside of him. "And I most certainly _am not_ a social problem!"

_Well, you're gay and society has a problem with it, so what does that make you? _Kurt chose to ignore the obnoxious thought that involuntarily popped into his head and let his features twist into a sulking expression instead. If he had been a tall, bulky footballer (see: Frankenteen) he would've already grabbed Puck by the collar and thrown him out like a filthy dog. However, fate obviously didn't give amazing taste for fashion, brilliant brains and unparalleled music talent all in one package with muscles, so poor Hummel was left with his only, albeit quite deadly weapon: his ability to smartass talk Noah out of spending another minute in the house.

"But wow, Puck, using me to get your best buddy back must be the most elaborate plan you've ever come up with. You should be proud."

The jock's mouth twisted to the side with mild irritation as he dropped his arms off the back of the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees with a soft grumble.

"Shut it, Lance Bass! So maybe I'm doing this to make it up to Finn. Why do you care?" he fixed his now slightly angered chocolate orbs on the smaller male and added in what appeared to be sincere strain to sound casual. "It's just a couple of days and you obviously need someone to take care of you. It's a win-win."

Kurt shook his head, a series of small tuts rolling off his tongue as he eyed the man before him with a generous amount of condescension. Years of being shoved against lockers and slushied in the face had taught him surprisingly little of when to shut up – something that had successfully baffled and at the same time irritated his torturers ever since… well, ever. Because, really, a victim wasn't supposed to talk back, a victim was meant to be quiet (or screaming, it was optional) and then thoroughly thankful when left alone. The resident queer, however, was nothing like that. He knew it got him in trouble far more than it made him feel better about himself but he couldn't help it – he needed at least the satisfaction of messing with those Neanderthals' heads, perplexing them with words that were more than two syllables long and then, eventually, having them yell "SHUT UP!" in his face when they couldn't think of anything better to say.

Sometimes his tongue would help him out of a predicament, but far more often than not it earn him far worse of a torment than his bullies had initially planned for him. It was awful not knowing when to stop pushing.

And right now, when all alone in the basement of his own house and in the company of the very same guy who had contributed to the better part of his high school sufferings, Kurt really_, really_ didn't need to go too far.

"Poor Noah, did you honestly think you could just come over and force your presence on me just because I'm too weak to fight you?" he asked as he bowed his head a little, contemplating the other student from underneath his lashes with mock innocence. "Haven't you ever paused even for one moment to deliberate over the drawbacks of this... situation?"

Puck's lips parted in confusion as he scanned the shorter singer with swiftly accumulating suspicion.

"What drawbacks?" he uttered quickly, flatly and Kurt barely resisted the urge to sneer at the way the first traces of worry started to streak the jock's tan face.

"How do you think your schoolmates will react when they find out you've spent the past couple of days with the resident queer?"

A blank stare. _Ha!_ Kurt barely desisted from bursting into a wicked snicker at the sight, knowing that – _ugh-oh!_ – he had just hit a undefended spot. _Strike one!_

"Willingly sacrificed your time to helped him recuperate from a sickness? What would that do to your bad-boy status, hm, Puck?"

_Strike two! _Kurt's lips broke into a sneering smirk as he felt his chest swell with confidence, the words now falling out of his mouth too easily, almost giving him no time to breath.

"Somebody might figure that the infamous cougar-killer of Lima had only put on the 'stud' image to hide that, _in fact_, he's much more of a _pony_, begging to be - should I really say it? - ridden by another guy."

_HOMERUN! _The hundreds of fans residing in Hummel's head all burst into loud applauses and victorious cheers at the way the jock's eyes popped wide and shocked, features twisting into an expression that Kurt, along with his whole club of admirers, were never going to forget.

"Why, you little…" the smaller singer's smile immediately dropped off his face as Puck's own one turned livid. Kurt barely had the time to squeak before he found himself pushed down on sofa, the jock's hand pressing on his chest to keep him down. The warm feeling of satisfaction was gone in an instant, replaced by startled pallor and quite pathetic vulnerability, the last part seeming to frighten Hummel far more than the not-so-unusual perspective of being hit._ Way to go with that mouth again. _

"Nice one, Puck, harass the sick kid." Kurt let out a quivering chuckle, trying to sound cocksure despite the fact that his breathing and heart-rate were rapidly accelerating. "Does it make you feel more like a man? You know, being able to manhandle-" he clamped his mouth shut as he felt the hand on his body press harder, reaching the point where it was starting to hurt.

"Hummel…" Puck began, his voice deadly low and Kurt cringed, features already settling into a painful grimace despite the fact that the jock's free palm was resting on the back of the sofa, rather than curling into a fist.

"Please, get off." The countertenor mumbled piteously before remembering to act tough "O-or I'll… cough in your face!"

Surprisingly enough, Puck just burst into a benevolent laugh at the threat, startling the boy far worse than the punch he had been so anxiously anticipating.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Princess, I'm not that stupid. Finn's going to have my face pulverized if he comes back to find his brother lacking even one precious hair."

"O-oh." Kurt blinked stupidly, feeling the pressure on his chest ease gradually. "Then may I ask why you're on top of me?"

"I have a suggestion for you and I want to make sure you take this very, very seriously." Puck's eyes darkened a little as he moved away from the smaller male, the bully inside of him reflecting somewhere in the brown depths of his orbs as a reminder of who Hummel was dealing with. The countertenor swallowed with a certain difficulty but didn't make a move to sit up despite having been released from the hold. If it weren't for all those years that he had been modulating his brain to believe that the Jewish footballer was in fact a genderless and devoid of brains (and sexual attributes) creature, he might've found their current position quite ambiguous (especially after the pony comment from 5 minutes ago) but right now this was the last thing that he was thinking about. Plus, it would be a really bad idea to point anything of the sort out at this moment, considering Puck was obviously doing his best not to do what he usually would in this sort of situation.

"Isn't it quite dangerous to make deals with someone as perilously gay as me? You never know when the homo-germs might decide to infest your body…" and there he goes again. Big mouth. Huge. Kurt so needed to buy a roll of that shiny duct-tape…

No painful outcomes followed the remark though, as Noah seemed in quite good-natured mood today and merely chuckled again, withdrawing to his side of the sofa.

"I'm such a stud, Fancy, that even _your_ gay germs drop dead at the contact with my sexy, lady-killer body." He pointed out with a wriggle of his (quite shapeless according to the more fashionable of the two) brows and Kurt barely resisted the urge to groan out loud. This was getting old.

"You're going to beat Rachel at being sickeningly full of yourself one of these days, you know that?"

"Look, Hummel." Puck said, completely ignoring the smaller boy's last comment. "I know you and I don't get along very well - that having to do with you being so openly girly and me being a sex shark - but in times of need-"

"Your need, you mean?" Kurt clarified, pushing himself up in a sitting position with his left leg tucked under the right one as he adjusted a pillow behind his back. Now that the danger seemed to had passed, his brain had switched to smartass mode pretty much by itself and judging by the way the jock was trying to reign his vexation once again, it seemed like Hummel would be getting away with it for a lot more than just a little longer.

"_In times of need_," Puck reiterated, scowling with irritation at being cut off "We, as Glee members, should stick together. You help me gain some brownie points in front of Finn, and I'll help you get better."

"I'll recover on my own, thank you very much." Kurt pointed out icily as he pulled his blanket to himself and wrapped it around his shoulder without glancing at the other student "Seriously, Puckerman, you can go home. I'll tell Finn you had been a lovely baby-sitter all along and no one will know the truth." He paused to throw a mindless look in Noah's direction. "That's all you want, right?"

"That wouldn't be fair."

"Fair? Since when does Noah Puckerman care about 'fair'? There must be like a gazillion things that you've done to losers such as me that prove you don't know what this word means."

The room fell silent for a couple of minutes then, all the while Kurt expected from the jock to stand up and leave (maybe do something nasty to him beforehand), but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Puck took a deep breath before turning to the countertenor and enunciating with determination that made Hummel's brows disappear in his bangs:

"No. I can do this. I won't bully you and I'll do everything you ask, so when Finn comes back, you'll _have to_ tell him what an awesome guy I am." He paused to muse over his next line for a moment and then added in a lower voice "But you can't tell anyone."

Kurt's stadium of fans all smirked smugly at the thought.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Please, be nice. T_T_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: I'm still feeling peculiarly uncomfortable with the characters_ _and I've got no idea why. It might have something to do with the fact that I've been writing for the same fandom for 3 years and it's damn hard to switch now. I'm sorry for any OOCness, I hope that by the time I've finished this story (which I'll try not to make too long) I've had gotten used to the characters and I'd be able to write my next Glee story better. Please, don't be to mean! Th broccoli scene was inspired by the episode with the 'tots' in season 2... I don't remember which number it was. ANYWAY! I'm being extra nice with you - it's a really fast update for my standards, so again - be gentle, ok? T_T_**

**_Btw, I read about Kurt having a lesbian aunt that's bound to appear in season 3, so I didn't make that up. xD  
><em>**

* * *

><p>Town Of Hummelville<p>

Chapter 3

Puck sincerely wanted to make this right – he _needed_ to prove to Finn _and_ himself that he could be loyal, trustworthy and tolerant even if every fiber in his body was screaming against it – and he really _was_ trying to do well but Hummel was _so_ not helping him with this.

It wasn't that the fairy was asking for too much – actually, the smaller boy seemed quite tentative about it all, at least on the outside. But the things he _did_! Oh, it felt like Puck was literally being drowned in gay sparkling dust, rainbows, unicorns and whatnot, all of that done with such _goddamnfrustratingARGH_ casualness that the jock couldn't even blame Hummel for doing it on purpose.

For example, one thing that apparently made the countertenor feel better, were fashion magazines. Simple, no? But then Kurt had to go and name like half a dozen titles in a row, gingerly asking the jock to get them for him with the promise he'd lend them to Puck after he was done reading. _Splendid. _Surprisingly enough, buying the said items had turned out to be far more embarrassing for Noah than purchasing 'Playboy' – a fact that had forced the footballer to drive for 5 miles before reaching a remote enough news-stand to dare accomplish his mission.

Upon his arriving back at the Hummel-Hudson residence, Puck was met with what appeared to be the beginning of a looong phoning marathon. First, Hudson himself had called to check on his almost-step-brother, to tell him he was sorry for leaving and then complain about Rachel already taking over and going out of her way to boss everybody around ('_That's because she's a GIIIRL, Finn!_'). Five minutes after that call ended, the female FBI decided to see(well, hear) how Kurt was doing and there went a very thorough, very redundant discussion about who was wearing what (Puck wished he could shoot himself when Hummel expressed quite unhealthy fascination and interest in some what's-its-snobby-name brand of socks that Mercedes was apparently giving a try.), as well as what appeared to be the most popular topic all times – particulars about how exactly Rachel Berry was being insupportably unbearable. Finally, just as the jock was starting to think _all this queer shit_ was over, the countertenor's _lesbian_ aunt (did gay run in the family or something?) decided to phone and have a chat with her 'favourite nephew' and there it goes – the most homo-conversation Puck had ever heard, all sprinkled with what must've been about a hundred (actually, 118) words that the footballer had never heard before. Most of them fashion terms.

And yes, Noah had been forced to say 'hi' to every and each one of those friendly callers, including 'Auntie', which had somehow resulted in a disconcerting explanation that this was not Kurt's boyfriend but actually 'that school bully that you called a 'Jewish euglena thing' when you came over for Thanksgivings and I arrived home with a blueberry slushy on my Alexander McQueen dress shirt.'. Oh, right. Puck did recall that one – he had made sure to splash cup after plastic cup of the sticky goo on Hummel's tops almost every break till the smaller male had run out of spare ones to put on. It was quite hilarious because even with the flashy drink soaking his clothes, the Princess had refused to put his head down and had kept walking around with his nose stuck high in the air, like the president of the Queer Galaxy… that he probably was. The jock couldn't help it but smirk smugly at the memory. He had been quite pleased with himself that day and afterwards he had even made plans to resort to the strategy again but it had turned out to be way too expensive of an escapade to carry out on a daily basis. After all, slushies didn't come for free even if the look on the victims' faces was always priceless.

Puck's smile faded as he lifted his eyes to the ill boy's face. Pale flesh, tinted with an unhealthy flush, the mix of green and blue in the usually quite lively orbs now unwontedly moist and dulled as Hummel tried to stay focused on what appeared to be Mercedes' second call for the night. It seemed that the effects of the pills were wearing off and the fever was gradually returning full-power, making the boy look even worse than a couple of hours ago… _Well, damn. _Puck fought down the feeling of uneasiness that tingled in his chest at the sight and frowned a little as he realized that all the remnants of his previously jolly mood had gone to the dogs, replaced by something that vaguely resembled… what? _Guilt?_

He grunted at the ridiculousness of the idea, glancing at Hummel again. The smugness didn't come back but the other feelings seemed to heighten just a little bit more, making him shift restlessly in his place. Why didn't the slushy story seem nearly as amusing as before all of a sudden…?

"Sure, I'm glad you're having fun…" Kurt commented meekly, the edges of his lips turning in a smile that held just a tad bit of rueful weariness and Puck couldn't help it but deem that it was kindda cruel of the Afro-American diva's side to relate about the good time she was having when her best friend couldn't be there. If she couldn't lie about it, claiming that Hummel wasn't missing anything much, the least she could do was… well, not mention the trip. Even Puck wouldn't have been this accurate in his narratives in a situation like this and he didn't pride himself to be too moral.

Plus, the Princess' voice was adopting a raspy quality that was far worse than the one from a couple of hours ago and if Mercedes wasn't planning to do anything about it, then Noah definitely was.

"Gimme that." The Jew snorted, snatching the mobile phone from the smaller boy's weak hold with ease. The faint 'Hey!' stayed unnoticed as Hummel made an attempt to regain his ownership over the object only to have his wrist grabbed in a firm grip.

"Hello?" Puck asked, pressing the mobile to his ear as he recoiled from the feebly struggling countertenor, keeping the latter at an arm length. "Hey, black girl, I'm afraid your friend just passed out from gay-despair thanks to your unbelievable rant and I'm pretty sure I don't have much time to doodle on his face, so I'm gonna have to hang up right now."

"Puck!" came an indignant (and somewhat croaky)shout, but the jock was already turning the phone off, shoving it in his jeans pocket where it was a safe distance away from the smaller boy's hands. "What did you do _that_ for?"

Noah let out an exasperated sigh before holding up his index finger in front of his face and raising both brows for emphasize:

"One: because your throat is sore and you keep straining yourself to speak, which is quite dumb for a singer who's supposed to _know_ what is good for his voice and what isn't. Two:" Not waiting for the smaller male to recover from his blast of shock, the Jew held his next finger up, letting up a nuance of smugness graze his lips. "you seriously need a rest, dude-"

"Don't call me that!"

"-Just looking at your stressed-out expression makes my eyes hurt. Sometimes even more than your outrageous taste for clothes."

"My fashion taste is completel-"

"_Three_: Your friends should know better than to keep you away from getting better by filling your time with rattles about nothing. Seriously, that's not exactly the most considerate thing to do and this is _me_ talking... And four:" he made a grimace, lips twisting to the side with unhidden distaste before adding. "Listening to all this crap was just plain annoying."

Pulling back from the taller student, Kurt tucked his legs underneath himself and after leaning back against the couch, folded his arms with a huff.

"In case you haven't noticed, this is _my _house, so I think the least I get here is the right to do what I feel like doing." The countertenor pointed out crabbily only to receive a small amused chuckle in response, his head snapping back from where he had been staring at the wall to now gaze at the man beside him with sincere puzzlement.

"Well, here's some news for you Princess - no, you don't get to do whatever you want."

"_What_ did you just say?" came the choked inquiry and Puck grinned.

"I said you _don't_ get to follow every dumb idea pops into your head, not if the things you do contribute to your illness. Which, by the way, is solely the case ever since I arrive from my magazine quest." He paused, tasting the words against his tongue and palate for a moment before interjecting almost matter-of-factly. "So no more phoning for tonight."

The statement made Hummel flinch almost as if he had been hit. Then his posture changed, shoulders stiffening considerably and all of a sudden he resembled a person who had just had someone drop a potted plant on his head – his eyes had gone wide, lips thinned in a purse and body rigid as a statue. The this-is-not-happening look was etched quite vividly into his features as he fought back the muddled mess of responses that were threatening to spill before he had had the chance to sort them out into something that had at least a remote connection to the dialog.

"Are you aware that you're neither my parent, nor of any relation to me other than a co-Glee clubber?" Kurt enunciated slowly, the impatience rather emphatically reverberating into the stance of his shoulders.

"You look like someone's just ruined your plans, hm, Hummel?" the jock pointed out, arching a teasing brow that only made the other boy's face lose a couple of more shades of colour.

"You're one stunningly observant Jew, Puck, _bravo_. Now give me my phone back!"

"Nope. You get some sleep and then we can sort this out." The jock pretty much stated, rubbing his palms along the legs of his trousers absently as he prepared to stand up. A peculiar, slightly hoarse sound escaped Kurt's lips at the other one's audacity and his voice all but went shrill with anger as he blurted his reply:

"Not a chance I'm willingly submitting into unconsciousness with a reliable persona such as yourself in the house!"

Puck merely rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet and stretched, graciously oblivious to the gimlet eyes burning into his head.

"Stop being so stubborn, will ya? I'm trying to be responsible here and _trust _me, it isn't the easiest thing to do.."

"Do you know where I want to stuff your 'responsibility?'" came the uneven snap and Puck barely desisted from bursting into a laugh at the anecdotic way in which Kurt's sore throat made the threat sound. Hummel's voice was more girly than ever now and with the grave exception of, well, _Santana_, the jock had always found females' attempts for intimidation beyond ridiculous.

"You really need some rest, Princess. Trust me on this one." Noah purred, winking at the smaller male before he could even realize what he was doing. An incredulous, slightly offended look crossed Hummel's features but he recovered quickly, his folded arms tightening further around his thin frame as he glowered at the now standing man.

"Give me my mobile phone back or else I'm going on a Sleepless strike." Kurt said a little bit more softly then before, despite the frustration smoldering in his eyes. The Jew opted to remain unaffected by the menace and instead stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his faded jeans, smiling sweetly.

"Well, that's too bad, because you're not getting your phone back, Hummel." Shrugging almost nonchalantly, Puck spun on his heel as he started making his way towards the staircase. "I'm going upstairs to see if there's anything to eat. And because I'm such a great guy, I'm going to fix something for you as well." Not that he'd be able to if there wasn't something already prepared, but if he said that he wouldn't sound nearly as awesome. And that was a lot worse than a teensy-weensy lie.

* * *

><p>Hummel was an obstinate little thing. Pay close attention to the words 'obstinate' and 'little' and it was quite easy to see why the kid got picked on so often. Knowing that, it wasn't such a surprise to see that Kurt wasn't planning to listen and rest. Even from the kitchen Puck could hear the smaller boy switching through the TV channels downstairs, the volume turned up way over what is considered normal, probably in some childish attempt for the jock to get the message. Noah rolled his eyes with exasperation, running one hand through his mohawk while the other one engaged itself in opening the fridge's door.<p>

And finding nothing but organic plants and fruit, arranged in neat boxes and envelopes in the most silly manner possible. It was food, for God's sake, it didn't _need_ to be preserved in a fashionable composition! Jesus! Hummel's print-marks we all over the place!

Plus, what was this little tree-chunk? Since when were trees human food?

Grabbing the plant, Puck stormed back into the basement, finding the countertenor sprawled across the couch with a vex frown on his face, upper body propped on one elbow and thumb viciously abusing the buttons of the remote control.

"Hey, Hummel? May I ask you something?" Noah called, a crumble of hesitation making his feet falter a bit as he approached the sofa, waiting for the other student to look at him. "I was looking for something to eat and I found this tree in the fridge and I was wondering what it was doing there-" his rant was cut off by what appeared to be a short, humorless laughter as the countertenor's lips twisted sullenly.

"Well, since, apparently, you're going to treat me like a piece of the surrounding furniture, I don't see why my answers would matter to you." Kurt glanced at the jock momentary before adding. "But just for the record: that's not a tree. It's broccoli. Seriously, people, don't you eat any vegetables? I think I've already had this conversation with half the Gleeks."

"I go by with pizza and beer."

"Typical." Kurt stated dryly, pausing on MTV for a moment, only to let out a low groan and proceed to seek for something better to watch. "At this rate, you'll be a rotting corpse by the time you're thirty."

"At least I'd be a badass rotting corpse." Puck smirked, brandishing the broccoli chunk around for a moment. "And is there anything else that's edible in your house by chance?"

"I think there's some soup in the saucepan on the stove. You can warm that up." Kurt's sharp eyes quickly found Noah's, cutting the latter off just as he was opening his mouth to speak up. "And no ordering anything."

The only reason why Puck closed his mouth shut and obediently headed upstairs was not, as Kurt so foolishly assumed, because the jock had just been defeated by the power of organic, homemade meals but because there was already a plan forming in his head. As he switched the hot-plate on, stirring the vegetable soup with one hand, Puck quickly went though all his pockets with his free one, murmuring soundless '_Where is it_'s to himself before his fingers found what he had been looking for. _Jackpot! _Pulling out the small plastic bottle of pills, Noah adjusted it so he could scan the label, the details of what he was about to do already clearing out in his head. _Sleeping pills._ His mother had been having problems with sleeping for years now, mostly due to her tendency to change workplaces (and thus working hours) all the time, so these were like a _must_ for her calm slumber. Puck knew she was running out of them so when he had gone to buy Kurt his medicine, he had decided to pick the soporific as well. That was just how considerate of a son he was.

And how considerate of a babysitter he was going to prove to be.

* * *

><p>Pouring the already rather hot soup in two bowls, he popped a couple of pills into his palm, contemplating them for a moment. This would be a dose enough to have the boy drifting into sleep fast enough and any suspicion that could arise, Puck would blame on the fever. <em>He won't even know what hit him,<em> he decided with a small smirk as he let the pills plop into the thick soup and picked the tray up, heading for the basement. It wasn't the most honorable thing to do - especially since he had promised himself to do this whole thing right for once – but Kurt needed his rest and well… Noah really wanted to watch some kick-ass action movie on the flat screen so why the hell not? Why the hell not give them both the rest they needed so badly, especially since it was going to help Hummel recover. And especially since the countertenor was insisting so damn much on being a bitch. _Besides_, he thought as he pushed down the guilt-induced lump that was forming in his throat – _what could go wrong_?

As he finally reached the bottom of the staircase, Puck all but choked at the sight of the prude countertenor rummaging through his backpack. _Noah_'s backpack. The jock had no idea when Hummel had gotten his hands on it – since even Puckerman himself didn't remember where he had cast it at his arrival here – but he definitely didn't like anyone touching his stuff.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked rigidly, watching as Kurt pulled out a frayed notebook and opened it imperturbably.

"Well, you know how we have chemistry together?" Hummel stated calmly as he placed the backpack next to the foot of the couch and opened the notebook, scanning it's scanty content. "I heard the teacher threaten to flunk you the other day and well, you can't afford that. Not if you want to stay on the football team…"

"What are you getting at?" Puck asked as he approached the sofa, putting the tray on the small table before it. Kurt looked up from the couple of debauched doodles occupying the major part of the jock's notebook page and his features softened.

"I can help you out with that. In return you're going to give me my mobile back. And before you say anything," he added hurriedly, seeing the hostile frown already forming on Noah's face. "I'm done with the phone calls. You were right, and you meant good. Sorry for bitching at you… You didn't deserve it."

"Oh." Puck mumbled, surprised by the sudden change of the attitude as he plopped down in the boy's feet, his features relaxing into a tentatively delighted expression. "That's… well… good, I guess."

Kurt's lips twisted into a soft smile and he shrugged before looking back the notebook's content.

"So what do you say, Puck?"

"About what?"

"Chemistry. We are stuck together for the weekend _obviously_ so if you're willing to be cooperative, I'll see how much of this… quite obvious _vagueness_ in your head I can clear up for you." Hummel looked up again, pulling his knees to his chest under the blanket and wrapping his arm around them. "I'm not nearly as toxic as you think and if we both try, I think we can make a good use out of our time together. So. What do you think?"

Puck's lips stretched into a grin before he could help himself and he shrugged.

"I say we give it a try." He nodded readily and the other boy let out a breath that he had obviously been holding, the small smile adorning his face widening just a little bit more.

"Great!" he said, his voice cracking a bit as he raised it more than his sore throat allowed him. "We can eat then and we'll get started afterwards."

With that Kurt put the notebook away and reached for his bowl of soup, pulling it in his lap as he shifted to get into a more upright position. As he heard the sound of the metal spoon colliding with the ceramic bottom, Puck couldn't help it but stiffen, the feeling of guilt washing over him like a wave of something rancid. Suddenly, feeding the unsuspecting Hummel to sleeping medicine seemed tenfold worse and he found himself rankling his brain for something to say or do to stop the boy from eating this.

"Um, Princess…" he started, hating his voice for sounding so fake and weird. "You know, the soup's really hot maybe you should wait till it cools down…cuz it's bad… for… you know, your throat."

There was a small pause during which Kurt just stared at the bowl in his lap and Puck couldn't really see what was going on, because the little knee-mountain was preventing him from that, but then a low sigh was heard. Noah felt his whole body tense, the feeling of apprehension clutching on his insides painfully, making the time draw a hundred times slower than usually.

"_Seriously_, Puck?" the jock could hear the sarcasm dripping from those words and even if his intuition was screaming at his that this was bad, his brain couldn't comprehend it. He couldn't understand what had happened, because even if he had had the suspicion that the taste of the soup could change, he was pretty sure Hummel hadn't eaten any so far. Then the countertenor moved his legs away, slowly lowering his feet to the floor and Noah could see exactly what the problem was.

On the bottom of Kurt's spoon, a small white pill was swimming between the pieces of vegetables, leaving very little doubt about where it had come from.

Puck swallowed with difficulty, the only rational thought in his mind consisted of two words: Oh. Fuck.

"Wow…" the countertenor mumbled, his lips twisting into a bitter smile as he started at the pill, brows raised in cold amusement. "Just… wow. Should I be impressed or repulsed, Puckerman?"

Noah felt his heart sink as he saw the boy drop the spoon back into the bowl, fingers opening wide in disgust. The clatter was almost physically hurtful as it carried a very reasonable, very easy question with it: was Hummel's disgust directed to the drugged meal or to its maker? The answer was cruel in its obviousness and for some reason it made the jock's heart skip a beat, his fingers unconsciously digging into his jeans as he tried to ease the tension that was accumulating behind his furrowed brows. _Stupid, stupid, stupid… _Kurt turned to look at the other Gleek, lips pursing together painfully as he waited for an explanation that Puck found himself unable to voice.

"It was… They were just sleep pills, to help you relax-" he tried, suddenly founding himself drowning in his own inability to say something… justifiable for what he had done.

"To help you get rid of my presence, you mean?" Kurt supplied, lips quivering a little at the edges as he lifted his shoulders a little. "Nice one, Puck."

"Look, Hummel, I didn't really-"

"Stop. Just… Shut up." Kurt cut him off, his voice sounding ridiculously thin as he shook his head, teeth digging into his lower lip in what appeared to be a sad attempt to keep his emotions at bay. The tone caught Puck off guard but instead of doing what he usually would to put the smaller Gleek into his place, he remained quiet, silenced by the look of hurt and disappointment that flooded the boy's eyes. "I _told_ you that you don't have to stay. I did mean it, you know…" Now Noah was pretty sure the reason why the soft words sounded so quivering, so weak had nothing to do with the sickness and it made the weight in his chest grow heavier, more suffocating. "Now I'm asking you. Nicely. Please, leave. I'll tell Finn you'd been here the whole time."

"Hummel-" he tried but Kurt just pulled the blanket around his shoulder, eyes firmly cast on the table before him.

"Just go, Puck." He mumbled softly. And much to his own surprise, Noah did just that.


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: I'll try not to make this fic too long as I know long fics tend to get exhausting. This chapter isn't particularly long, but I think it's quite a turning point in the story, so I think it's excusable. :) I hope you enjoy this! Lemme know if you do, as I've begun to worry that maybe I'm not doing so well in this section due to the lessening number of reviews for each chapter. :/ Anyway! Thanks all you who keep reading! Cheers!  
><em>**

* * *

><p>Town Of Hummelville<p>

Chapter 4

By the time Puck stopped cursing himself, the sun was already beginning to settle down and he still hadn't moved from the Hummel-Hudeson residence's porch. Kurt hadn't come up to lock the door – assuming that he would've most likely ended up tumbling down the staircase if he even tried – which was both good and unnerving because now Noah had absolutely no idea what to do. He had the choice laid out pretty clearly in front of him and it was driving him _mad_ – he could either venture going back inside and try fixing things _or_ he could just walk away and leave it all behind. He groaned pathetically under his breath, reaching to run his hand through his Mohawk as he kept pacing back and forth the front of the house like a caged animal. This was suppose to be an easy choice. One that he could make without the blink of an eye and not regret later on… so why was he taking forever to sort things out? There it was – his truck, parked neatly just a few meters away, tempting him to just fuck everything else and hit the road. Maybe find a nice little pool that needed cleaning. Maybe a couple of free drinks for the effort, or a messy phone number, scribbled on the back of his hand for future reference. Yes, that was exactly what he should do. _So why aren't you leaving! Why. Are. You. Still HERE! _God, he totally needed a slap in the face for all this. Deliberating was so not his forte, hence the mere fact that he was _trying_ left him with numerous doubts about his own health. If any of his teammates found out that he had spent this long hesitating whether to leave the homo to manage on his own or not, they'd shave his brows and his precious Mohawk without a second thought. And the worst part? He'd probably do the same if he were in their shoes.

_Ah, shit! _ Grabbing the sides of his head again angrily, Puck barely resisted the urge to start banging his forehead against the hard oak door. This was ridiculous. _Ridiculous._ But it was _him_ who had screwed up, _yet again_, and unlike all the other times, he wasn't nearly as willing to run away now. He wanted to do something about this. God help him if he knew _why_, yet... he couldn't. Fuckin'. Help it.

Puck rolled his eyes, exhaling softly through his nose in an attempt to clear his head as he carefully placed his hand on the door handle without pushing down on it just yet. _Last chance! _Last effing chance to chicken out! Take it or leave it.

Noah closed his eyes for a moment as he finally made up his mind, his fingers around the door handle tightening ever so slightly as he tried to shake off all the uneasiness that was simmering in his gut. _Damn… _He _so_ knew he'd have to scrub the gay off his skin with a pallet after this.

Wasn't life just one royally screwed up thing?

* * *

><p>Puck entered the house as quietly as possible, stepping gingerly on the parquet, trying not to alarm Hummel just yet. Unsure of how to proceed with the offended little fairy, he decided to play safe for starters and see how things went. He sneaked to the basement's door swiftly and gently pushed it open. <em>At least these things don't creak as bad as they do at home… <em>The TV was still turned on but the volume was down, the mere hum coming from it the only sound that crept around the room as Puck cautiously descended the staircase, the lack of movement causing his brows to furrow with dull apprehension. Mulling over the idea that the countertenor might have fallen asleep, the jock silently approached the sofa and peered over it.

"Hummel?"

As the smaller boy turned to look at the intruder with almost painful incredulity, Noah felt his chest tighten. The fairy's eyes were undoubtedly red and puff, like he had been crying, his cheeks flustered unhealthily, while the rest of his face seemed sickeningly white. It wasn't rocket science and with his past experiences with his sister getting sick, Puck immediately figured out what the situation was. _Damn… _In general, all ill people had the disturbing propensity to get overemotional about petty things, lapsing into small fits of weeping, self-pitying and occasionally frustration. That would, as Puckerman knew for a fact, make them feel worse, bring up some headache and fatigue issues to the table of malady-provided problems and just plain result in prolonging the recuperation. Shoving away the repetitive stabs of guilt that were threatening to tear his insides apart, Noah opened his mouth to explain himself but was cut off by a brief dry and completely devoid of any traces of a amusement laughter that elicited from the other teen's chapped lips.

"What are you doing here…? Have you come to 'teach me a lesson' for kicking you out?" Kurt whispered and Puck couldn't miss the hue of fear that resided behind the façade of impartial aloofness. "I thought that suited both our wishes."

It took the jock a few seconds to realize he wasn't actually answering the question but just staring with empty eyes, a single thought whipping through his head again and again: _Do I strike people as someone this low? _He swallowed with startling difficulty the swell in his throat as he realized that the response was as clear as day – all he had to do was look back at what he had tried to achieve just a couple of hours ago. Drug a sick person out of what he now realized was sheer laziness. _Sloth_. _Irresponsibility_. No wonder he was irrevocably losing his best friend for good – because, really, how could such person be _trusted_? What kind of a friend was someone who would offer help and then do whatever it takes to get out of it the moment you turned away?

And Hummel…

_Fuck it! _Hummel, the one and only queer kid, hated, mocked, taunted and insulted publicly day after day, had willingly offered Puck help. _Just like that_. And that alone was more than anything anyone had done for Noah in a long, long while… When had been the last time that someone had suggested to aid the jock in something without wanting any goods or favors in return? It pained and agitated Puck beyond belief that he couldn't. fucking. _remember_! And it pained and agitated him even _more_ because he knew that he probably deserved it. Sure, he was a badass, the ever-present image in every cougar and teenage girl's wet dream, the top of the effing food chain. But where had that led him? He had no real friends, no girlfriend that gave a damn about him, not a single person to have his back in a moment of need. And for some idiotic reason despite having had understood all that on a certain level long ago, he was _still_ unwilling to try and make a difference because he was afraid… Afraid of what? Being reduced to another humiliated and teased high school loser? Like he didn't know, or feel, or taste with every fiber of his body that he had long ago become much less than that. Like he didn't know that he deserve the trade-mark slushie facials a lot more than the ever-ridiculed Glee club with its united little group of weak, but at least proud members... _And dammit, Hummel, why do you have to be so friggin' kind? _Why did he have to be so prim and well, _good_, this kid, and to _Puck_ of all people… Why couldn't he stick to being hateful and malicious to his №1 tormentor like anyone else would, instead of… _this_. Instead suddenly proffering to give a hand, asking for the mere _effort_, the _attempt_ to be treated… as something more than a wrapped up bundle of trash, ready to be tossed into the dumpster day after day.

"I just don't understand what you want from me, Puck." Uttered a small voice and Noah was torn away from his ruminations. He blinked, turning to gaze directly in the pair of large, weary blue pools… and at that moment, his whole world came crashing down.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." He choked out breathily, much to his own shock. The boy's eyes immediately widened, mouth opening in amazement and bewilderment at both the statement and the address but he wasn't given the chance to speak as Puck had already set off, blabbering quickly as if afraid that if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to do this ever again.

"I'm sorry for all the things I did to you and all the hurtful names I called you… You never did anything to me and you didn't deserve to be treated like this." He swallowed, the weight of the words seemingly increasing against his tongue, pushing down, strangling him and _damn_ he never knew it'd be so friggin _difficult_! "I accepted to take care of you because I wanted to prove to Finn that I could be trusted, I thought that I could… _endure_ this… you… for a few hours and then it would all go back to the way it was." Puck's breath hitched at the hurt that flashed vividly in the boy's orbs but against his better judgment, he decided to go on while he could still muster the courage to, while he still held some hope that he'd be heard "But then you offered to help me out with my school problems and it all came tumbling down, because I realized that you're not a tool to use and this is not the way to win your friend back… Shit, what I did today was the icing of the cake and I know that. I _know_ that I don't deserve your forgiveness but starting now… I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn it."

At the end of his diatribe, Puck suddenly felt small. Smaller than ever actually, and weaker, and more vulnerable, but he didn't avert his eyes as much as he wanted to, choosing instead to contemplate the reactions of the ill teen before him.

"I'm gonna be sick." Came a low murmur and for a moment, the jock felt his heart skip a beat, face adopting a pasty colour as he realized that he _should've known_. He should've fucking known that he'd earn nothing but Kurt's disgust with that idiotic tirade he just-

"Oh, sweet Dolche!" the countertenor sprang to his feet, hand clasping his mouth and stumbled as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him towards the bathroom, kicking its door shut behind him once he found himself inside. Before he could realize what he was doing, Puck had rushed after him, pushing the same door open only to be met with the sight of the small singer on his knees, bent over the toilet and retching the content of his stomach.

"Kurt…"

"D-don't come any closer…" the boy managed before another fit clutched his stomach, quaking his slim frame violently. "I don't want you-… to see…"

Puck's features softened at the silly demand and he shook his head, crossing the few feet of distanced between himself and the boy before kneeling beside him. One tanned hand quickly came to wrap around Kurt's sweat-dewed forehead, supporting it gently against the nauseous vertigo that irrevocably came with the disgorging, while the other one rubbed soothing circles on the countertenor's back, both techniques, again, learned from previous experiences with his little sister.

"Easy now, Fancy... easy."

"You don't have to…" the smaller student mumbled when his stomach was finally emptied, the occasional painful spasms and the exhaustion still keeping him bent over the toilet. Beside him, Puck chose to remain silent, waiting for a few more minutes till he was absolutely sure the countertenor was done.

"C'mon." Wrapping one strong arm around Kurt's waist, Puck helped the boy up and guided him towards the sink, pressing the flush button in the process. Once provided with access to a water source, the smaller teen took his time washing his face and rinsinh his mouth thoroughly several times until the taste of gall was mostly gone. Noah stood beside him throughout the whole process, one of his hands still massaging Hummel's back comfortingly as he waited for the diva to finish.

"Some nasty flu you've got yourself there, huh, Lance Bass." Puck taunted gently, mostly to fill the silence. The statement was easily ignored though as Kurt twisted the faucet handles to stop the running water and made a move to head to his room again, only to realize two steps later that he couldn't trust his shaking knees at all.

"Goddamnit, Princess…" Kurt's brows twisted into a frown at the exclamation but before he could inquire the reasons behind it, he was scooped up, the familiar pair of arms that had given him a lift to the dumpster all too many times before, now enveloping his frame securely, almost caringly.

"Puck…" came the weak sigh but no actual protest was voiced or shown as he felt himself being carried towards his bed bridal style. _I must be hallucinating..._

"Don't worry, I've got you." the jock mumbled softly as he reached his destination, easily balancing the skinny form in his arms with one hand as he pulled the covers aside with the other to gingerly lay the boy down. "You're really warm to the touch, Princess, have you been taking your medicine?"

"I don't know…" Kurt admitted tiredly, hands coming up to grip at the blanket as he curled to himself and closed his eyes. He could sense the movement of the taller form above him for a couple of more seconds, then it was gone... Only to return a moment later with something in his hands.

"C'mon, Kurt, you're getting worse. You've got to take your pills."

Kurt groaned in protest as he felt that familiar hand slip behind his neck, pulling him up in a half sitting position. He cracked open his foggy blue eyes again, gaze focusing unsteadily on the couple of pills that were now being laid in his slack palm. Realizing that he was not going to be let alone until he complied, the countertenor sluggishly put the medicine in his mouth, accepting the glass of water offered afterwards readily. Once he had swallowed everything, he was lowered gently back down on the mattress.

"Will you doodle on my face when I doze off?" the boy mumbled weakly, mild apprehension replenishing his words as he looked up at the jock who was currently hovering over him, placing a laundry basin next to the bed in case the smaller male felt sick again and was unable to get to the bathroom in time. Puck paused in his ministrations at the statement to eye the sick gleek, his expression clearly asking if the other singer was being serious. Kurt's misty gaze shifted, landing on some spot far behind the taller teen's head.

"I just don't think I can handle to be toyed with right now, Puck…" he uttered, his voice breaking a little at the end as his finger around the edge of the blanket tightened further. "I don't think I can…"

"No need to, Princess." Noah asserted him, his jaw setting into a decisive, confident lock for a moment. "You don't worry your little head with anything now. I'm gonna take care of it. I'm gonna take care of _you_."

Letting a small smile of relief twist the edges of his mouth as his exhausted brain opted to register only the first part of the answer, Kurt curled further into himself under the covers, eyes falling shut as he drifted into sleep without further questioning.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Review?_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: I had half the chapter done for awhile but I couldn't find time to finish it since I had some end-of-term stuff going on. And then an exam on English language, for an English certificate *cringe*. The written part was like this morning so for some reason I'm still incredibly uneasy with writing actually AMUSING stuff. I beg to be very much excused for the lamenes of this chapter. I need my head back still, and if I didn't feel so awkward, I would've probably made this even longer. Yeah... But I just can't keep you guys waiting anymore. I'll do my best to make it up to you with the next chapter, alright? In the meanwhile, keep me as happy as you did so far. :) You're so amazing, I can't thank you guys enough for the support!_**

* * *

><p>Town of Hummelville<p>

Chapter 5

The next morning Kurt woke up with a great deal of difficulty, his stomach uncomfortably empty, somehow compressed even, almost like it was plastered to the inside of his back. His whole body felt kind of odd, detached from the currently sluggish functioning of his brain, all his muscles lax, limp and motionless, as if he was trying to '_unfold_' himself after spending hours in a tiny box. There was a horrible taste on his tongue, a bitter disgusting tinge that had deposited thickly all around the walls of his mouth and as he smacked his dry lips together, the memories of the previous night as well as the renewed desire to vomit came rushing back to him.

Groaning pitifully, Kurt dared to try and sit up, his head instantly protesting as the blood banged mercilessly against his temples. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table and after several seconds of trying to decipher the faintly glowing code of four numbers, it finally occurred to him that it was almost 10.05am. Tearing his tired eyes away from the figures, he let his gaze glide across the room, the stagnant wheels in his brain slowly cracking into operation. He needed breakfast, that's what he needed, and his meds, some more rest and _maybe a little bit of_… The thought trailed away, almost as if a giant hand had just snatched it away, leaving a completely different sequence of facts and questions behind. His room was quiet, painfully quiet actually, which was supposed to be perfectly natural considering the fact that his dad, Carole and Finn were all away. But it hadn't been like that last night, had it? Last night _Puck_ had been here, he had taken care of Kurt in the boy's worst moment, he hadn't run off in disgust or left him all by himself - quite the opposite actually… _Oh, Sweet Dolche! _Despite the still quite outstanding tardiness that his whole body was demonstrating, the blush splashed across the countertenor's face like shock of beet red paint, way too fast and way too powerful for his liking. _He carried me to my bed? _Puck, the infamous McKinley bully, one of the many, many male individuals in the school who had countless times voiced their fears of 'catching the gay' from Kurt, had voluntarily and completely violent-lessly ventured to touch him. And not run away screaming afterwards…

"Oh, you're awake." Came the slightly surprised, yet definitely not unfriendly statement from somewhere to the side and Kurt snapped his head in the direction, regretting the action instantly as it made his head throb viciously once again. He assumed he had made quite a sour grimace, as Puck's mirthful laughter bounced around the room, getting nearer as the jock climbed down the basement's staircase with a cup of streaming coffee in his hands.

"How are you feeling, Princess?"

"Like I've just been given synthetic clothing for my birthday." Kurt downright whined, the perspective of such an obvious umbrage making every cell in his body shudder with disgust. _Synthetics! _Quickly liberating himself from the abhorrent thought, he straightened his back and reached to smooth his currently impossible hair with as much dignity as his grumpy red eyes, twisting stomach and exterminating headache would allow. "So, am I to assume that you've stayed here all night?"

"Your couch and I became very close." Puck sniggered as he approached the bed and gingerly sat down on its edge. For a couple of seconds there was nothing other than an impartial 'hm', then Kurt's eyes widened considerably, the possible meaning of the statement finally registering in his brain and he pulled back with a repulsed face, hands flying in a frantic attempt to simultaneously cover his eyes and ears.

"EEWW, Puckerman! Ew, ew, _ew_!"

"If you ask real nice, I might even tell you which couch it was, so you can burn it." the jock suggested benevolently, a sly smirk twisting his lips as he watched the smaller boy screw his eyes shut and squeak a little. "By the time you've healed, you'll have run out of couches."

"Sweet Dolche, Puck, _please_ tell me you didn't do anything funny with my designer-"

"I didn't, okay? Relax, it's not good for you to get all worked up over such petty stuff before breakfast." Noah couldn't resist yet another chuckle when Kurt visibly slumped against the headboard, one hand pressing against his chest as he mouthed a very passionate thankful prayer to… Lady Gaga? "I swear, dude, you're worse than a chick."

The countertenor's eyes immediately narrowed at the address.

"Don't call me dude! And if being worse than a girl means shielding my furniture from violation, than yes, I am proud to accept that accusation."

Raising one hand in surrender, the jock lifted the cup to his lips and took a very long, very loud sip that had the smaller male cringing.

"Anyway, since you're up, I guess that means you need to be fed…" the jock drawled thoughtfully, swishing the dark liquid around in its porcelain confines, much to Kurt's horror ( because, by all means, those were some perilous actions to perform over the countertenor's _designer_ bed sheets). "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt whipped the blanket away from his legs and made a move to stand up, a small grumble already forming on his lips as the possibilities of a healthy food combination all flashed before his eyes.

"It's fine, I'll just get some fruit and-" his tirade was cut off mid-sentence as the jock's hand landed on his shoulder, making him slump back a little and successfully ceasing all movements. Eyeing the taller student with confusion, Kurt merely raised an inquisitive brow as the pressure over his body increased just enough to keep him from standing up.

"No getting up." Puck ordered firmly, his index finger around the cup now sticking out to point at the countertenor almost threateningly. "You are to stay in bed, Princess, or else!" he paused, scowling with some strain as he mused over what could be horrifying enough for the smaller singer, than finished proudly. "Your furniture'll suffer the consequences!"

"Really, Puckerman? That's the best you could do?" came the incredulous retort and the jock well-neigh pouted as he swallowed the rest of the coffee in three large gulps and handed the now empty cup to the smaller male.

"You wait here, I'll go make you a cheese sandwich." He declared with a huff and jumped on his feet, his lips stretching into an amused smirk when Kurt opened his mouth to try and protest. "And no fruits. Fruits will irritated your stomach."

* * *

><p>Puck didn't understand why a kitchen needed to have every single jar, vessel and cooking book meticulously put away in cupboards just to leave vast spaces of <em>nothingness<em>. It definitely didn't seem very sensible and it made things that much harder because if people just left the pans, the chopping boards and the ladles on top, then it'd be a hell easier to find what you needed. That's what Noah did at his own home and he was proud to say that despite the fact that the piles of dishes and other utensils weren't very stable, if one learned how to maneuver safely between them, there was nothing to worry about.

After several minutes of thorough search, he finally pulled the needed ingredients and started preparing the sandwich, his mind quickly going through what he knew about this sort of illnesses. Dehydration was the biggest problem that could occur and as far as he could recall, his Nana solved that by making the patient drink small portions of overly sweet tea. The sugar kept the water from leaving the person's system too quickly and if consumed in tiny sips, the chances of the body rejecting the mixture were much smaller. Same went with the food. Almost everything that hadn't endured heat treatment was irritating for the stomach, especially fruits and vegetables with thick rinds, so grilled cheese sandwich was probably the best option for now. Besides, it was important that Kurt ate at least a little bit, not only because he needed his fairy strength, but also because swallowing pills without having had absolutely anything didn't sound like a very good idea.

Pleased with all those conclusions, Puck put the now finished sandwich in the grill and proceeded to prepare the tea by simultaneously producing a creative mess – the best atmosphere for any talented chef. A couple of dishes here, several spoons throws there and – voila – la perfection! A few more days in this house and the place was actually going to start looking like it was inhabited. By cavemen, true, but inhabited nonetheless and what could compare with the wonder of life?

"Puck, what do you think you're doing?" the jock froze dead in his endeavors of taking another bite from a six inched wheel cheese and turned to face the countertenor who was currently standing a couple of meters away, half-stooped and leaning against the kitchen's doorframe. His pale face looked a bit grayish from what the taller student suspected, were the efforts of climbing the staircase, his left arm wrapped around his middle in some possible attempt to keep his stomach in his body, yet with all those troubles hindering him, the slightly bitchy look was still in place, along with something in the depths of those orbs that the Jew couldn't quite put his finger on.

"N'thing…" he managed with a full mouth as he carefully put the cheese on the microwave behind him. _Damn_, his plans for a P-shaped cheese chunk were now ruined! "Didn't I tell you not to get out of bed?"

"Your phone was ringing." Kurt replied, his slightly irritated look faltering as he stretched his hand with the now silent mobile forward. His brows furrowed a little, forming an anxious expression as he chewed down on his lower lip, eyes tentatively avoiding Noah's "I swear, I wasn't planning to look, but then-…"

"It's Karofski." Puck cut him off with a light grin as he snatched the phone away from the countertenor's palm, completely missing the look of agitation that crossed the smaller student's features. _Good to hear from a fellow footballer. _Mindless of the boy behind him, the jock walked towards the grill and turned it off as he concurrently went through his latest calls and picked out Dave's number.

"Yeah… That's what I meant… _Karofski_…" Kurt's voice trailed off equivocally but Puck didn't notice, already clicking the 'call' button as he held the cell to his ear. The familiar signal for the free line managed to sound only once before being replaced by a thick, growl-like baritone from the other end of the line.

"_Puckerman_." the address sounded like the slurred bark of a fat, drooling dog and mingled with the familiar obtuse laughter of David's sidekick Azimio, it almost successfully muffled the distant roar of a car engine. "_Didn't see you at the party last night_."

Puck paused in his efforts of putting the now grilled sandwich on a plate (the mobile phone still balancing under his chin) and his brows furrowed a little as he tried to recall whether he had been invited to the said party. If the answer was no, surely somebody was bound to suffer the consequences. Yet that suspicion fell out almost instantly, replaced by the image of a sultry senior girl, batting her lashes at the same time she stuffed an invitation in his pants, and Noah's mouth formed an 'o'. _Riiight, now I remember… _The jock shrugged nonchalantly at his elusive memory, realizing belatedly that such actions were inadvisable in his current predicament as the mobile slipped from his shoulder and nearly fell in Kurt's meal, only to be saved by Puck's amazing, ninja-like reflexes.

"I was kind of busy." He managed, leaving the plate on the counter for now as he turned around to look at the countertenor, his brown eyes narrowing a little when they fell upon the smaller student's face. Kurt was still leaning against the door, this time his back along with his arms pressed against the smooth wooden surface of the frame, yet his whole form was somehow slouched, blue orbs fixed wryly on some spot on the floor. The unusual sickeningly gray nuance hadn't dripped off the customarily porcelain like cheeks and the fact left Puck feeling peculiarly apprehensive. Letting out an almost imperceptible sigh, the jock quickly crossed the distance between himself and the smaller Gleek, an involuntarily soothing smile breaking on his lips as he noticed the other one's eyes level him with a certain amount of curios disbelief.

"_Hope the chick was worth it, man, you've got no idea how crazy it was last night!_"

Puck realized he was coming late with the answer, but for some reason he failed to care, too busy wrapping an arm around the smaller male's shoulders as he mouthed a small "_Let's go_." and proceeded to usher the still strangely disheartened Kurt towards the staircase.

"Oh, she was worth it, alright." The jock finally answered in the mobile phone, giving the sick boy next to him a conspiratorial wink, the answer to which was just a very timid smile before the pair of bluish pools were looking away once more.

"_Anyhow, the party ended like an hour ago, so Azimio and I were driving home, when an idea popped up-"_

"Well, there's got to be a first time for everything." Kurt mumbled almost imperceptibly as the words trickled from the mobile into the open space loud enough to be heard, the cheeky comment making the taller male snicker.

"_-and you know what we haven't done in awhile? Fucked with our favourite Fairy's house. You think two cartons of eggs would be enough?._"

"_What?_" The soft, yet persistent exclamation had left Puck's lips before he could stop himself, the words affecting the sick student beside him with equal force as Kurt froze dead on his spot, eyes wide and mouth slowly, sluggishly falling slightly open. Quickly collecting himself from the sight of the small body visibly shrinking beside him, Noah cleared his throat and added in the speaker with as much authority as he could. "Are two out of your _mind_? It's broad daylight – you think no one's going to see a couple of idiots drive-throwing eggs at a house?"

Instead of a hesitant pause or any other sign that could indicate that the duo were thinking over the said words, a mix of rough sniggers exploded from the mobile phone, making a nuance of a surprisingly unpleasant emotion trickle inside Puck's throat like bitter poison.

"_Like someone's gonna really do anything for the fag. The chances are whoever sees us is gonna join in._" came Azimio's cocky snort, followed by another portion of idiotic laughter. "_You know how it is, Puck… 's not the first time we're doing anything like this. Plus, it would be an awesome ending of the last night's party. Are you fucking in or not?_"

The flinch was so tiny that the jock nearly missed it. With the corner of his eye he saw Kurt's small hand fly to his mouth and he screwed his blue eyes shut for a moment, breath hitching audibly in… what?... Disbelief? Hurt? Shock?

"Shit, Princess-" Puck muttered as he saw Kurt's free arm find its way around his waist, clutching it in a protective manner and before he knew it, the boy was trying to wring himself free from the suddenly quite tight hold that Noah had on his shoulders. Torn between the phone and the struggling Gleek, the jock was desperately mouthing the smaller one's name and yet all that the countertenor could think of, all he could fathom was the pressing need to run to his room and scream in his pillow in the suffocating mix of frustration and misery. Whether it was because he was sick and for that reason particularly overemotional, or because he had just finally had enough of it all, today the imminent bullying, _and those painfully true words_, just seemed too much even for him to swallow. _When is this going to end? _Surely, they had noticed his absence yesterday – that was exactly what this was all about. Proving a point. _They wanted to prove a fucking point_… Show him that there was no _day off_ for the resident queer kid, that he could not escape his daily dose of humiliation, whether because it was Saturday morning or because he had come down with a sickness… His biggest fault was still available. He was still guilty for who he was and for not keeping it to himself.

And, as different as the situation might've seemed last night and till now, Puck was _still_ one of _them_.

Biting back a dry sob, Kurt finally yanked himself free from the taller student's grip, only to manage one faltering step before the tan hand wrapped around his wrist to hold him in place. Turning around to face the jock, he shook his head frantically, the anger bubbling up his throat as he mouthed his demand to be released, completely ignoring the familiar stinging at the corners of his eyes. He could feel the long fingers clasped around his forearm and he knew for sure he couldn't break this grasp, but it did bring him a certain amount of personal satisfaction to put the other one in an awkward position by tugging and twisting as hard as he could.

"_Shit_, you're stronger than you let on…" came a grumpy whisper but Kurt just glared his bitchiest diva glare, daring the other one to release him.

"_Yo, Puckerman? Where'd you go man?_" came the muffled queries from the mobile phone and the jock cursed silently, torn between trying to keep Hummel from locking himself in his room for life and making a sensible conversation. Letting out a weary sigh, Puck pulled the smaller male harshly, meeting the surprised yelp with a smirk as he maneuvered them both till Kurt was securely pressed with his back against the wall, trapped under the Jew's larger and stronger body.

"What, for Gaga's sake, do you think you're _doing_?" the ill Gleek hissed and Puck almost chuckled at the revelation that this was the exact same thing the smaller one had asked him upon finding him in the kitchen with his teeth sinking in the wheel cheese. Only the situation now was, as the footballer suddenly realized, much more interesting...

"If you've ever watched a gay version of one of those doctor-patient-inspired porn movies, you are probably starting to feel the similarities here." The jock suggested, wriggling his brows a little even if the image of Noah as a caring doctor didn't seem to amuse the other one in the slightest bit (not that he had expected anything else from Queen Prudish…) as Puck merely received a small swat on his shoulder for the effort. "Okay, you can be the nurse." He agreed stintlessly, the pain just next to his collar-bone barely registering as the small vexed groan that the ever-so-composed Kurt Hummel made him feel extremely smug and clever for poking in the right spot. Another swat – this one considerably harder – landed on his body along with a demolishing glare that had him chuckling complacently. "Mmm, didn't know Princess liked it rough."

"Don't go there, Puck!" came a low hiss, Kurt's body visibly beginning to shake as he tried to keep his head bowed in what Noah assumed was an attempt to conceive one of those girly blushes. "Don't. Go. There. Or, I swear on my shoe collection, I _will_ snip your balls off with a nail clipper!"

_Pretty image. _It was ridiculous how amused the jock felt in this particular situation. This was definitely annoying Kurt – the uncomfortable closeness, the sex jokes – and seeing as Hummel was always so peculiarly hard to irritate for real, Puckerman, much like the immature meat-head he was, felt the nagging need to go further. Ignoring the increasing volume of the yells that came from the mobile phone along with the slightly deterred resistance Kurt was putting up, he pressed his body a bit tighter to the smaller, thinner one.

"This isn't funny, Puck! _Back offl!_ Back off, I'm _warning_ you-" the tirade was interrupted by a low, half-restrained sob and Puck's smirk immediately melted off his face, replaced by a certain tinge of anxiety as he looked more closely at Kurt's face. Whether because of the little amount of juvenile entertainment he had been drawing from the absurdity of the situation, or because in his mind anger was so very much impossible to mix with tears, Noah was more than shocked when he spotted the faint wet stains that were making their ways down the boy's quite remarkably bitchy-looking face.

"Are you crying?" the jock whispered, regret marring his words as he hurried to step back. He wasn't sure why he felt so terribly uneasy all of a sudden, or why no signs of inclination for any sort of teasing were popping into his head, but the facts were present. Suddenly, it didn't matter if Kurt was a boy, or a girl, straight or gay, all it mattered was that he was sick, understandably touchy and a bunch of bullies, _himself included_, were trying to fuck with him.

"Something got in my eye." came a low snap, mixed with a hue of a dry, humourless laughter, probably because this ought to be the lamest excuse in the book.

"Kurt," Puck mumbled, shaking his head as he took another step back, his previous behavior suddenly seeming incredibly, incredibly _stupid_. He swallowed, anxiety starting to seep in every muscle in his system as he tried to force the stinging words out of his mind for a second time in what appeared to be unhealthily _short_ amount of time. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's not you, you idiot!" the boy nearly barked, wiping angrily at his wet cheeks, the 'something in my eye' excuse obviously already forgotten. "I just don't- I don't want to be here when you say 'yes'."

When no answer came and the jock merely lowered his eyes for a moment, Kurt let out a small, staggering sigh and tried to straighten himself up. The voices on the other end of the line were probably becoming quite irritated by now, but the countertenor couldn't even bring himself to be worried if they had heard him. Taking one last inhale, he tried to make his way past the taller male, only to be stopped by a large tanned hand that wrapped around his arm lightly.

"I won't say 'yes'."

"Do what you have to do, Puck." Kurt answered softly, his voice meeker than he would've liked it to be. "I understand. This situation is hard for you. You have to go along with it, if you don't want to end up like me. I get it." he paused. "And I wouldn't wish _this,_" he glanced down at himself with a wavering smile "to anyone."

A long, peculiarly heavy moment hung between them and then Puck's eyes lifted to meet the boy's slightly resigned gaze.

"This is really hard on you, isn't it? It _is_ getting to you."

Kurt closed his eyes slowly, shaking his arm out of the other one's grasp.

"You're keeping your friends waiting, Puck."

And with that, he made his way down the staircase.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: I'll really try to make the next chapter better! Did this one seem forced? It felt a little bit like that. *groans* _**


End file.
